Let the H lead the way
by EvilBrocolli
Summary: She let go of the string,as it strung a perfect note. The arrow shot forward and plunged itself into his neck. It was the two of them now. Which will triumph over the other by wringing the sharp tip in the latter's body? Or will both or even worse, none snail their way out of this hellish arena? Let the letter H lead the way now. Maybe it can satisfy your curiosity. CatoxKatniss
1. Hate

Hate is inevitable. Hate might fuel some people's determination. But what could we District people be different? Surely we can't be that different from the Capitol. But what is it we are lacking that makes hate missing from their lives?

Darkness cannot drive out darkness

Only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate

Only love can do that.

-Martin Luther King Jr.

I huddled in a lone corner of my room. The looming shadows darkened my face. I feel hollow without Peeta. Emptiness. There is nothing. Nothing I should live for. I wish I could just take a cutlery made of shiny stainless steel and stab myself, probably joining Rue and Peeta. The corners of my mouth twitch upwards upon thinking of that idea. Sweet, innocent Rue and perfect, charming Peeta. We all could be full of mirth there - the meadow I described to Rue, possibly even better. The lake will have have clear and still water, duckweeds floating gently on the water. Purplish alyssums and sophisticated carnations will be spread around the fertile dirt, its earthy smell lingering among the air. Oh! Prim, Father and Mother will be there, all of them so gleeful. And for the first time since the end of the games, I was genuinely _happy_.

A gentle yet impatient knock on my door brought me back to reality. "Katniss dear, lunch is served, we're all waiting for you!" I heard Effie genially prompted me. This was when a loud sound of plates shattering which resembles the sound of the cannon in the games. My mind drifts off to the scene of Peeta's death while hearing faint noises of Effie chastising Haymitch.

I was in a dilemma. Peeta was desperately struggling to grasp onto any air. Cato has Peeta in a headlock and was cutting off any air circulation in his body. "Go on! Shoot, and we both go down and _you _win." Cato teased me, "Time's running out, princess." My eyes dart around for something to help me. Something, please... That was when I saw it. A spark of hope ignites in me when I saw the small yet big hint Peeta gave me. Holding out a shaky hand, he drew an invisible 'X' on Cato's palm. I instinctively reached my hand to grab an arrow, complying Peeta's hint. I pulled back the delicate string and took aim. Realeasing the grasp on the string, the arrow whizzed through air, expecting to find its target on Cato's hand. This was when Cato abruptly shoved Peeta forward, unfortunately into my arrow. It pierced into his neck, snapping his jugular vein into two. Crimson red liquid spew out of the wound, staining his clothes. A mark of my murder. He clutched onto his neck before dropping dead on the slick and shiny cornucopia. A gasp escaped from my mouth and I am surprised that my eyes have not popped out of its sockets. Cato looked at the lifeless and cold corpse in disgust before booting it off the cornucopia, for the muttations to savour. Wiping the little beads of tears off my cheek, I reached out for the only arrow in my leather quiver. I have to do this. For Peeta. For Prim. For Rue. I hate Cato. I hate his guts. I will full enjoy digging them out of his merciless body. Worthless piece of thrash occupying space.

Cato guffawed in amusement upon seeing me struggling to get up. "Ready to die?" He tantalized with a malicious smirk on his face. I scowled. Never had I encounter such a complacent and arrogant animal in my life. Not even that ugly Buttercup. As I pushed my heel back to stand up, my foot nudged against my bow, causing it to fall among the muttations. _Shit..._ I cursed in my head. Oh well, better way to release some stress on my muscles by some combat skills.

After fighting, or shall I say dancing with weapons, I finally have the tip of my arrow pointing straight to his neck while Cato does the same but instead with his sword. "Remember that I can thrust this into your neck any moment, which means you will have the same fate as Peeta," I hissed at him hatefully.

He raises an eyebrow before stating,"Same rule applies to you, ma'am."

I was about to stab him in the neck before wringing the arrow when a loud voice announces, "Stop! May I introduce you to the victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games – Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve and Cato Hadley from District Two!"


	2. Hell

Hell. I wonder what it looks like, how it feels like to be there. Is it something like what bubbly District 12 girls say: a pit of burning fire? Or is it when the rebellion in District 13 broke out? Or simplier yet, is it merely akin to the arena?

What is hell? Hell is oneself.  
>Hell is alone, the other figures in it.<br>Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from.

And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.

- T.S. Eliot

"What the hell?!" Cato cursed audibly, vulgar words ringing through the infenal arena. He threw his sword down and stomped his feet immaturely. "I was suppose to win," he jabbed his index finger at his ribs before pointing an accusing finger at me,"You! What have you done?" He bellowed in wrath.

I raised up both of my hands in mock surrender and replied, "Woah, don't go around accusing people of something they never done."

He looked daggers at me before grumbling, "Who do you think you are to order me around?" If looks could kill, I would be joining Peeta with the muttations for their scrumptious dinner.

"The victor of the 74th Hunger Games," I simply wittily replied.

His eyebrows knitted together, after which he placed his hand on his luscious shimmering blond hair, and bantered sarcastically, "Oh my goodness! How silly of me to not notice that! You're so ingenious, I -" The sound of a hovercraft drowned the remains of his sentence. As he climbed up the flimsy ladder, he stretched out a hand, expecting me to receive his "good" deed. Ignoring him, I climbed up it, though I believe it is just barely holding onto our weights.

The sudden barging in snapped me out of my thoughts. The intruder's eyes whiz around the room for a while, before settling them on my limp body. That old alcoholic lugged me out of the room and pratically threw me to the dining table. The elegant mahogany table had a pearly white table cloth laid nicely horizontally across the table. My favourite lamb stew with dried plums sits in the middle of it, utensils and plates sitting infront of each chair. "Now, sweetheart, please have a delectable lunch," Haymitch articulated. I shot him a defiant glare, which basically speaks for itself 'You can't tell me what to do'. But glancing upon his ferocious look, I reluctantly gobble down my food, while Effie was giving him a uninteresting dressing-down about manners.

It was only after I finished eating my first serving then I realise someone else was with us at the table. I stared icily at that demon from hell before serving myself another serving. He sighed in agony, his head probably full of despair. I was about to cart my bowl of lamb stew and return back to my room when he broached the subject. "Katniss..." He asked, "Really, why do you hate me?"

I cross my arms and frowned. "Because you killed Peeta," I spat out angrily, which comes out looking like I am really juvenile.

He sighed in exasperation and shook his head at my childishness. "Really Katniss, don't dwell only on that subject," Cato articulated. After excusing himself from the table, he strolled up to me and whispered daintily, "I'll be in my room if you need me." I shudder at the hot breath tickled my earlobe.

I sat at the foot of my bed. My droopy legs dangling from the soft material of the bed. Cato's words echo through my head. _Don't dwell only on that subject._I sighed and wallowed in self-pity. What exactly did I do to deserve this? Oh right, I survived. My gray orbs flopped on the digital clock. It's glowing numbers read '12:30 a.m.'. Might as well unwillingly meet up at Cato's room. I can not converse with anybody else as Haymitch only drinks and get drunk while Effie only lectures on manners. After putting on casual attire – Cotton shirt and pants, I ambled out my room and boogie to Cato's room

Standing in front of Cato's rich brown wood door, I turned the chilling door knob and stepped inside.


End file.
